by J A Campbell
Her stomach snarled at the scents of baking bread. It confirmed that her estimate of pre-dawn was right. Generally, bakers started cooking early to have warm fresh goods for breakfast.
“Anyone besides me speak Italian?” she asked when she read the signs.
“I think I can make a spell to read it,” Hagatha said.
“What about here?” Melanie indicated the first hotel they encountered. As cold as she was, she didn’t feel much like waiting until the shops opened to find a tourist guide and see if there were any well-rated properties in the vicinity. She noted the lobby lights were on, and a few of the rooms were illuminated as well. The exterior looked clean and well-kept, and it appeared to be in a good part of town. Houses and businesses nearby were quiet and shuttered for the night.
“Why not?” Hagatha said.
Elise cleared her throat noisily before Hagatha could finish with her usual, “What could possibly go wrong?” Melanie seriously did not want to think about that. The answer was ‘plenty.’ She herself was living proof.
“Let’s do it.” Melanie strode to the hotel and hoped that skiing season hadn’t taken all the rooms. Then again, it was a weekday, so they might get a break.
She pushed open the door, and they went inside. Warm air greeted them.
The lobby was uninhabited, save for the clerk attending the desk. Delightful aromas of baking goods made her stomach growl again.
“May I help you?” the dark-haired male clerk asked in flowing accented English.
“Do you have rooms available?” Melanie met his gaze and hoped he wouldn’t ask questions.
He nodded, looking the three of them over curiously. Of course, his dark eyes roved over Elise. Tall and gracious, with her raven hair and green eyes, she was a stunner. His mouth quirked at Hagatha. She cleaned up to striking with her angular features, lavender eyes, and white curls, but at the moment, she was going to need a team to do a make-over, starting with her hair, which stood straight out from her head.
“Have you got a suite?” Melanie looked hopefully at him. Something told her, after the creatures in the Way, that they needed to stay together. Elise gave a nod of approval.
He glanced at the computer and shook his head. “I have a queen-sized bed with a couch.”
When her two companions nodded, Melanie pulled out her Grayson Security company card and handed it over. His eyes widened when he saw the business card. Then he scanned the numbers and did a double-take at the credit limit. The rank-and-file agents didn’t have that leverage, but as one of the hopefully-temporary owners, she had some perks.
Melanie had her passport ready and laid it down on the desk so he could see that her photo matched with the one on the company card. Thanks to her size and her fae heredity, she still looked about fifteen in both pictures, but he nodded and processed the card, then handed three keys over.
“Three nights. I’ll let you know if we need more,” Melanie said. She wasn’t sure how long they’d stay, but that sounded good at the moment. They’d have to make careful plans before they went anywhere. They’d have to use the Ways. Melanie wasn’t sure what would happen if they tried to go to the US Embassy and convince them that Hagatha was a citizen and needed to return home.
“Complimentary breakfast starts at seven,” he said. He pointed toward a door leading to the dining area.
Melanie’s stomach complained at that, but she ignored the beast, caught up the keys, and headed to their room. On the way, they passed by the lounge where the television still played to an empty house. Scenes of the cruise ship’s destruction played out on the twenty-four-hour news.
They paused to look at the reports. Nothing new and, thanks be to the Goddess, nothing magical. Melanie hastened down the hall and upstairs to their room once the reports commenced to repeat themselves.
Their room was nice enough, with wood-beamed ceilings and a window with a view of the village and the snowy mountains beyond. The queen-sized bed was covered with ample blankets and pillows. They even had a small coffee pot with packets of coffees, teas, and sugar beside it on a cabinet next to the bathroom.
“I call the couch,” Melanie said. It was too short for the other two and no way did she want to sleep with Hagatha. She liked her, but she got the impression her teacher was hitting on her. She wasn’t judging, but girls weren’t her thing. Truth, after Aldo, boys weren’t so much her thing, either. She’d gone out numerous times, but couldn’t quite get past the goodnight kiss. If one good man could ruin you for all men, one bad one could scare you enough to contemplate a nunnery. That would teach her to date a man with the surname Machiavelli.
And now she was engaged to a man she only knew from working a handful of JM cases based on Mage-Faery politics. Lord Macrow’s exquisite engagement ring weighed her right hand down. Even in the semi-darkened room, sapphires and diamonds sparkled brightly. How he’d known the style and stones she’d love, she’d never know.
Damnit, Marcus Macrow was amazing. He was highly intelligent, skilled with magic, and treated her with the respect and courtly courtesy due a faery princess. Truth, he was also quite attractive, with his dark amber hair, green eyes, and lithe muscular body. He knew how to clothe himself so he looked like the cover of GQ almost effortlessly. He was also bossy and acted like he was an ancient font of wisdom, which was frustrating to no end.
Her body reacted to him in ways she’d never experienced before. Her blood fizzed like champagne. She could sense the man’s presence in a crowded room. She swore sometimes she could find him blindfolded.
But what would life be like with him? He was publicly distant and cold, and he showed little affection for anyone, including her, after she’d accepted his offer of betrothal. Prior to that, he’d flirted with her working cases. It was like she’d committed herself to a completely different and distant person. Was the engagement only for the time she was to receive magic training? It was the best of the three options afforded her and a great kindness on his part. Then again, he no doubt owed King Oberon some kind of allegiance. And she supposed a union with the Faery Court would serve House Macrow in good stead as well.
Melanie forced herself to stop thinking about her personal life. She could deal with the engagement later. Right now, they were in trouble.
“Ladies, it’s time for a sit rep. We know two things,” Melanie said, once the other two had gotten sorted, and she had made up the couch with spare blankets and pillows. “One, someone or something is out to kill us. Two, there’s some serious bad mojo working with the cruise line.”
“I’m certain of the GPS location we were given by the JM. It’s odd they gave us one instead of a contact, but we were both trained to open Gates to either a person or a set of coordinates,” Elise said. “Hagatha wouldn’t have missed the mark.”
“That makes sense,” Melanie said. Elise was precise, particularly with magic, unlike herself and Hagatha, where happenstance played too much of a role in what they were doing. However, if Elise said Hagatha was accurate, she believed the woman. “Now, who would give us the assignment?”
“Marcus,” Elise said. “Or one of the Council, generally. Particularly when human lives are at stake. Which is why we don’t get many assignments, with Marcus trying to protect us and all.”
Melanie swallowed.
“The green goons,” Hagatha said. “I’ve never seen their like before in any of the magical grimoires. We’ve never been attacked in the Ways. While there are always deals being made at the crossroads, Marcus taught us that the Ways were a place where all users were sworn not to do harm to any other travelers.”
“So who do we suspect?” Hagatha rubbed her hands together, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of solving a puzzle.
“Marcus Macrow,” Melanie said. The words stabbed her. She didn’t want to believe it, but there it was. Who else would assign them the case? Further, none of the other Lords on the Council could scry their location like someone connected to Elise and Hagatha by blood, as their cousin Marcus
was.
Both women shook their heads.
“He’s our contact with the JM,” Melanie found the words hard to say.
“He wouldn’t try to kill us,” Elise replied. She spoke with utter conviction, her face set in determined lines.
“Then who?” Melanie asked. Something in her eased, thinking that neither woman believed Marcus was behind the plot. Still, who?
“Valonna,” the two women said in unison.
“Valonna?” Melanie looked from one to the other. If she were among Christians, the woman’s name would almost be synonymous with the devil’s. As it was, she was starting to think of the women’s shadowy kindred as a kind of Moriarty.
Melanie stopped her fist from clenching when the two of them shared a glance. Not more House secrets! Admittedly, they did not want the world to know that magical Houses existed; however, she was slated to become a member in the future.
“At some point, you’ve going to have to tell me who and what she is.” Melanie glowered from one to the other. “This is particularly important since she seems to be at the top of both your suspect lists.”
“Valonna’s my mother,” Elise said. “She’s been trying to do harm to most of the House since…forever…”
“Can you at least describe her?” Melanie asked. “I’d like to know who I should avoid if I see her on the street.”
“Brown hair, brown eyes,” Elise began. “She’s a bit shorter than the two of us.”
That was just delightful. They provided a description that would fit a good number of the Italian countryside’s inhabitants. Melanie mentally added homicidal tendencies to the list and suspected the description was still no bloody use. Valonna was clearly adept at finding what she sought—enough so to frighten two seriously badass women.
Another glance, but this time neither of them offered up more. Melanie made a mental note to add Valonna Macrow to the top of her list of topics to discuss with Marcus—if he wasn’t trying to kill her.
“I suggest we don’t talk to anyone there until we know for sure what’s going on. We may be better off if we give nothing away,” Melanie said.
While they both nodded, Melanie could tell from their frowns they weren’t in full agreement. She didn’t know what else to say or do that’d convince them, so she kept her mouth shut. They were in whatever this was together—arguing was counterproductive.
“Let’s go next to the bad mojo,” Elise suggested in what Melanie thought was a quick attempt to change the subject. “The ghosts talked about humans robbing the cruise ship of ‘treasure,’ but they swore those humans were supported by dragons in the water.”
“Yeah,” Hagatha agreed. “One of the passengers was telling everyone there were some kind of sea monsters involved.”
Melanie nodded. “We’ve seen enough weird creatures to have substantiation that something like that can exist. And I have seen Nessie early one morning at Inverness when I was walking the shore alone. But she’s a fresh water beastie, and I think benign for the most part. Tomorrow, when it’s daytime in Dallas, I’ll make a call and verify.”
The two glanced at her with wide, curious eyes.
“I just happen to know a dragon,” Melanie said. “He’s currently disguised as a friend’s housecat.”
Elise rose from bed as soon as dawn’s first blush shifted to morning’s gold and pierced her eyes through a slit in the curtains. She quickly closed the curtains so the other occupants could continue their slumber, gathered her room key and her fanny pack, and quietly left.
Her long, slim-fingered hand reached up to rub a crick in her neck. She needed a good walk and stretch to work the ache out of her limbs from her unaccustomed sleeping position. Hagatha took up half the bed: the middle half, diagonally. Worse, she snored like a steam engine and growled like she fought demons in her sleep. Her cousin was mostly bone and stringy muscle, so when she scored with a knee or an elbow, it left marks.
Tourists dressed in ski clothing crowded the lobby. Fragrances of coffee, eggs, and toast cooking drifted from the dining room, but the line was long, with half a dozen noisy toddlers in it.
She paused at the check-in desk, considering whether she should inquire about a shop nearby serving breakfast. Several people stood in line in front of the same clerk who’d checked them in. He handled each request courteously, but Elise could tell from the silliness of the questions that most of the people talking to him had not drunk their morning coffee yet. She recalled that earlier scents from the bakery had practically permeated the area—certainly she could follow her nose.
She stepped past a clutch of elder hostel travelers consulting their books and out into the cold.
Alpine morning air chilled her exposed skin. After years of living in the Rockies, she was used to the cold and the thinner air of the higher altitudes. Postcard vistas of a quaint village with snow-covered Alps beyond brought a smile to her face. The “old” buildings in Neutral and Boring were close to a century. Much of the architecture here looked several centuries older.
She strolled along streets full of locals in regular attire and tourists in all manner of recreational garb. A smattering of languages assailed her ears. Signs on shops were primarily Italian with English. The combined aromas of freshly perked coffee and yeasty bread lured her into a local bakery with café-style seating. Lines for the counter were long, and every table was full, which was a good indication the place served delicious food, particularly since a substantial portion of the customers appeared to be local from the way they chattered among themselves and the counter help acknowledged them by name.
Elise took her place at the end of the line, stepping sideways so she didn’t catch a draft every time the door opened or closed. Warmth from the ovens and occupants quickly had her loosening her magically-created winter coat and scarf.
Her mouth watered at the aromas, and she hoped the cheerful pop music and conversation would cover the embarrassing growl of her stomach. Magic consumed a great deal of energy. She suspected after spelling the goons, Melanie would be nearly as famished as she was, and Hagatha could always eat more than any three people combined.
Her attention shifted to a newspaper someone at a nearby table had propped up in front of their face, partly to read and, she suspected, partly to give them some small bit of privacy in the bustling cafe. Her appetite stalled at the sight of the cruise line wreckage and the resultant death toll. She grabbed a copy of a newspaper, in English, to take back to the hotel and read in privacy.
By the time she got to the counter, she’d recovered a bit from the shock of the stories. From what she overheard, the scones were heaven. She doubted anyone’s scones could compete with Greta’s, so she opted to choose something different.
“I need two dozen croissants,” she said. A dozen would almost feed Hagatha. She figured Melanie would say she was starved and eat two. They’d have some leftover, but only until Hagatha wanted second breakfast and elevensies.
Then it would be time for lunch.
Her mouth quirked in a smile as the cashier rang up her purchases. She pulled out her JM credit card and handed it over.
The clerk ran the card, frowned.
“Ma’am,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the hubbub, just as the noise died down. “Your card’s declined.”
“What?” Elise’s body tensed. First, the GPS coordinates. Then the attack on the Ways. Now this.
“Could you run my card again, please?” Elise asked.
The woman smiled, nodded, and did as she asked. She shook her head, her hand pulling the box of croissants subtly back. Behind her, she heard shuffling and mumbling. Nothing like being the person who held up a line of people wanting coffee and food first thing in the morning.
“Wait, please.” Elise dug in her wallet for the small supply of cash she carried in case of emergencies. She nearly turned her fanny pack over looking for more and realized the interior looked soaked and disreputable. People were already muttering about her odd clothing. She w
as aware she made about as eloquent a fashion statement as Hagatha did most days, with her mismatched colors and garments. She’d like to see them try to magic winter clothing in the cold and dark when they were half-freezing. She’d see to more fashionable attire for all of them once she’d gotten some food in her roaring stomach.
Melanie could be very right about someone with the JM trying to kill them. Who else would know they were gone and would need both the Ways and their credit cards?
“Here,” a male voice said from behind her. Elise turned and nearly collided with a tall, dark-skinned man whose muscular arm snaked around her body. He handed over a wad of euros to the clerk and politely asked in an exotic accent she couldn’t place, “Will this cover the lady’s purchases?”
Elise’s eyes widened as the clerk spread out the money in her hand. That’d cover it and most of the contents of the bakery case. Someone at the back of the line made a rude comment about tourists—in an American accent.
The clerk quickly made change and handed the money back to her benefactor. Elise collected her box of croissants and stuffed her own meager funds and unusable credit card back into her fanny pack.
“Thank you.” She turned to leave and thank her benefactor. She swallowed hard, staring up into a handsome, brown-skinned face. He had a full, generous mouth curved in a smile. Green-flecked brown eyes sparkled with amusement. Her hand itched to dust the flakes of white snow that hadn’t melted in his close-cropped black curls. One of the most gorgeous opalized ammonites hung from a leather thong around his neck.
Sounds of a throat clearing got her out of the way of the counter. Her benefactor’s hand prevented her from tipping the box full of croissants onto the floor. Elise made way for other customers and noted her hopefully new friend awkwardly ordering his own food.
All the tables were full of chattering diners, or she would have seated herself for just a moment. She cut her eyes away from the man at the counter and held the box of croissants tightly.
He turned to her and smiled once his own order was paid.